


The First Night at Jacquelyn's

by LemonsandRosemary



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, F/F, Fingering, Fluff, Girls' Night, I will not be writing another foursome there are too many people, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Soft™, Truth or Dare, relationship inception, smoking ment, tipsy foursome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23968462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonsandRosemary/pseuds/LemonsandRosemary
Summary: Jacquelyn hosts girls' night. Everyone gets a little tipsy.Something of a prequel toIn The Middlebut both work as standalonesI report pedophilesDon’t interact with my fics if you post/read ageplay or stuff that features minors, even if they’re aged up
Relationships: Georgina Orwell/Esmé Squalor, Georgina Orwell/Jacquelyn Scieszka, Jacquelyn Scieszka/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Georgina Orwell, Olivia Caliban/Georgina Orwell/Jacquelyn Scieszka/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Jacquelyn Scieszka
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The First Night at Jacquelyn's

Olivia had been at home, on the couch, eating stale Doritos out of the bag when Jacquelyn had called,

“Yeah?” she asked, placing the powdery tip of her nacho cheese encrusted thumb in her mouth. She usually forewent the niceties of an introduction with Jacquelyn. A firm friendship that may only have been months old but felt like the solid foundations of centuries’ old trees required no formalities. 

Although she was suppressing the nagging urge that something had changed of late. Something quiet and soft that hid behind her ribs that only seemed to emerge when she was half-asleep with her head nestled neatly into the curve of her friend’s shoulder. 

“Are you busy tonight?” Jacquelyn asked, sounding somewhat sketchier than Olivia had grown accustomed to. Jacquelyn was a woman who said what she meant and meant what she said. She was direct, and blunt. If Olivia hadn’t known better, she would have described the question as sheepish. 

Olivia stole a glance at her watch, five past seven, still early enough for moonlighting at her best friend’s house, “Sure, I can come over. Want me to get take out on the way?” The familiarity of this routine was burned into her bones. She would drive to Jacquelyn’s, via their favourite Thai, pizza, Chinese, or Lebanese place, she would collapse onto Jacquelyn’s plush couch with a nostalgic film that warmed her to the teeth, and inevitably fall asleep halfway through. 

“I actually thought we could do something different today,” Jacquelyn started. _ Ah. So this is why the hesitance. _

“Okay,” Olivia filled in, “What’s the plan?” 

* * *

Arriving on the doorstep of her best friend’s house after a panic shower was not what Olivia Caliban had expected to be doing on her Friday night. 

After all, it was not like she knew either Esmé Squalor or Doctor Orwell particularly _ well _. 

That is, she had only met them precisely once. 

The image of her initiation dinner into the V.F.D. swum in her memory. Glittering ball gowns and cheeks flushed red as she dipped her gaze and avoided everyone but Jacquelyn and Kit. 

She didn’t really think of herself as a social butterfly type.

But Jacquelyn had insisted. It was important that Esmé have social contact. However, there was the slight sticking point that Esmé almost certainly would refuse to attend any event where both Georgina and copious amounts of wine were not present. She would never _ say that_, of course, but she would invariably find some kind of half-heartedly vague excuse not to attend unless her favourite optometrist would be putting in an appearance. Preferably in some kind of thigh length dress and a dinner jacket. Though, as Jacquelyn observed and promptly relayed to Olivia, the two of them were still pretending like it wasn’t utterly conspicuous that they seemed to disappear for extended periods of time at every event they were pictured at together and returned wearing the same shade of lipstick. Something of a feat considering how often a slick of jet black featured in Esmé’s repertoire. 

So Georgina had to come too. 

The two women made Olivia nervous as all hell. They were famously aloof and sharp tongued, at times, and the thought of relaxing in a social setting with two women that Olivia was debatably sure were criminals made her skin itch. 

Even if they were somewhat alluring. 

Or a lot alluring.

Olivia took a deep breath and decided to believe that Jacquelyn was still home alone and pressed the buzzer.

* * *

Jacquelyn cracked her front door with a wide smile and an outstretched arm. She pulled Olivia close to her, letting the warmth of the house mediate the outside chill, before stepping aside and inviting her in. Olivia allowed Jacquelyn to pull her coat from her shoulders and throw it softly across the handrail of her bannister. It landed with a muffled thump before Jacquelyn nodded Olivia into the kitchen.

Olivia liked Jacquelyn’s kitchen, it was soft, warm, and it smelled like home. Everything was painted in soft shades of brown and carefully decorated with cushy farmhouse furnishings. She sat at the oak table, running the edge of her nail across the gingham tablecloth, while Jacquelyn pottered around fetching her a drink,

“Do you want some coffee?” she asked, staring aimlessly into the fridge.

“No,” Olivia responded, shaking her head despite the fact that Jacquelyn wasn’t actually looking at her, “I don’t know that it’ll be good to add caffeine to this cocktail right now.” 

“How about an actual cocktail?” Jacquelyn offered.

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” 

Jacquelyn made juice cocktails in tall, mismatched glasses before sitting next to Olivia at the table. 

Olivia sucked at her straw and frowned lightly, “So will it just be Esmé and Georgina?”

Jacquelyn nodded, drinking her cocktail so aggressively that the glass was now half empty, “Everyone else is busy or out of town.” 

“And when will they be here?” Olivia jabbed at a bobbing piece of ice with the bottom of her straw, trying to sound more casual than she felt. 

Jacquelyn lifted her arm and glanced at the watch glinting on her wrist, “Soon,” she looked up into Olivia’s soft brown eyes, “They don’t bite, you know.” 

Olivia frowned, “I don’t know that I buy that.”

“You will.”

* * *

True to her word, the other two women arrived shortly after Olivia had finished her drink. 

There was a sharp rap at the door and Jacquelyn stood to answer,

“I’ll wait in the living room,” Olivia said, unprompted, trying to ignore the faint shaking she had noticed in her fingertips. 

She squirrelled herself into Jacquelyn’s living room, not quite knowing where to put herself. Eventually, settling for hovering around the edge of the couch, which she immediately felt was the wrong decision as soon as the other women entered the room. 

Jacquelyn led Esmé and Georgina through behind her. 

Esmé very quickly made herself comfortable, draping her borderline skeletal form across the corner of Jacquelyn’s deep couch. 

Georgina was slightly more polite, stopping to pull Olivia into a stiff, one-armed hug with a mumbled, “Good to see you,” that carried the ashy scent of a recently finished cigarette. She wondered briefly if Esmé’s collar would smell similar.

The blonde was clad in an ivory suit that featured thousands of gold beads; tiny sparkling droplets stitched in careful vertical rows. They glittered and cast a shower of pin-pricked gold flecks onto the surrounding surfaces in their wake. 

Georgina, by contrast, was dressed relatively plainly, but she carried it in such a way that made Olivia thoroughly certain that each piece was rigorously selected and tailored for the occasion. She wore a three-piece suit in a deep jet black velvet. She leaned away from Olivia and thrust one hand into the pocket of her slacks, the other atop the cane that seemed to be invariably pinned to her hip. The outfit was pulled together with the accent of a tie fastened under her collar in a deep garnet. Olivia tried not to let her eyes rake too conspicuously over the other woman as she followed the line of the jacket’s edge. The subtle tilt of Georgina’s hips and dip of her shoulder divulged a particular comfort with the surroundings that Olivia hadn’t quite expected. 

Before Olivia could progress down an anxiety-inducing tangent about what exactly that meant, Jacquelyn returned with a tray bearing four glasses and a bottle of wine. She set the circle of silver on the low pine coffee table before beginning to distribute the wine into glasses. 

“Esmé provided the wine,” Jacquelyn told Olivia.

Esmé sat up slightly, “It’s a German Riesling,” she explained, “1976.”

Olivia nodded, not really knowing or understanding much about the art of whatever it was sommeliers did. 

Georgina scoffed as Jacquelyn handed her a tall stemmed glass, “You can show them the price tag later,” she needled. 

Esmé made a face but busied herself sipping the drink, rather than arguing. 

Olivia took the glass Jacquelyn offered her before sitting next to her friend on the plush suede couch opposite the other women. Sipping the drink, Olivia decided that she liked expensive wine. It danced across her tongue in waves of syrup and floral summer sweetness. 

The four women very quickly fell into a polite, if slightly boring, conversation about the rest of the V.F.D.’s personal lives. Olivia only half followed the other voices, more interested in the wine that had been presented to her than whatever it was Lemony Snicket was writing nowadays. Beatrice was apparently pregnant again, her fourth, not that Olivia minded; she always did like babysitting. There were a few choice words thrown around about Jerome and Jacques. Olivia stopped listening more purposefully here out of a desire not to hear any malice said about her friends, though she perked up at the news that Gustav had finally found the wherewithal to actually propose to Monty and that there was therefore the potential of a wedding on the horizon. She liked weddings. 

It took her a while to notice that her lack of input in the conversation had become less about disinterest and more about a fuzzy inability to follow precisely what was being said. They had drunk their way through the first bottle of wine and had started on a second. Olivia took another sip and dropped her eyelids closed, tipping her head against the plush couch cushion. 

The flow of conversation ebbed around her with less and less clarity until Esmé sat forward with an alarming speed for someone who was holding a glass of red wine and wearing a white suit, “Oh, I know! Let’s play truth or dare,” she ignored a pointed groan from Georgina, “Drinking games are very _ In _ right now.” 

“That sounds like fun,” Jacquelyn added, looking for Olivia’s approval.

Olivia pulled her head forward from the couch and looked at Esmé’s evocative grin, “Sure,” she agreed, feeling the wine influence her decision somewhat.

“_I’ll _start,” Esmé announced, though Olivia wasn’t sure any of the other women would have dared to try and deprive her of that opportunity, “Georgie, truth or dare?” 

“How many times do I have to fake my own death before I can choose neither?” 

“At least twice more,” Esmé jabbed. 

Georgina rolled her eyes and tipped the rest of her glass of wine down her throat before answering, “Truth.”

Esmé barely left a pause to pretend to think before she jumped in with, “Who was the last person you had sex with?” 

Georgina groaned, “Esmé the point of this game is not for people to tell you things you already know.” 

Olivia took the opportunity of distraction to look up at the two women. Georgina had now shed her jacket, waistcoat unbuttoned as she perched one patent black heel on the edge of the coffee table. Esmé’s outfit still looked pristine and had miraculously avoided any carmine dots of the wine she was rather carelessly sloshing around.

The blonde shrugged, “You can do a dare instead, if you want.” 

Georgina pursed her lips, clearly meticulously weighing up the risks before relenting, “The last time I came was of my own accord.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Esmé insisted. 

Georgina ignored her and turned to Jacquelyn, “Truth or dare?” 

The practised ease with which Georgina had slipped into a juvenile drinking game surprised Olivia slightly. She certainly hadn’t expected it. It was at times like this that she thought she learned much more about the V.F.D. than when she ever directly asked for information.

“Dare,” came the clipped reply. 

“Kiss Olivia,” Georgina responded shortly, as she placed her foot back on the deep carpet and leaned forward to pour herself more wine. 

Olivia blinked and suppressed the anxious jolt in her stomach. 

“I can pick something else, Olivia,” Georgina said smoothly, as she leaned back into the couch, “If you’re not-”

“No, no,” Olivia interjected, “it’s fine.” 

She turned to Jacquelyn, trying not to notice how the other woman’s hair had taken on a slightly wispy quality as the night had progressed, and she had tangled her fingers into it restlessly. She tried even harder not to think about how many times she had thought about, _ fantasized _ about, kissing her best friend. Idle midnight fantasies that never came to fruition or midday entertainment when work was slow that made her feel warm and safe. Here, in the late evening in Jacquelyn’s living room, slightly past tipsy with her best friend smiling widely before her, she felt just as sheltered as she ever did in her imagination. 

Olivia tilted her head in time for Jacquelyn to press soft lips against her own. She felt Jacquelyn smile as she curled her fingers into the coarse fabric of the other woman’s jacket. Desperately wishing she wasn’t holding a glass of wine, a small involuntary hum left her throat when Jacquelyn cupped her jaw in deft fingers and parted her lips. Before Olivia got the chance to flick her tongue at Jacquelyn’s lip, the other woman had pulled away from her and turned her attention to Esmé.

She leaned forward, elbows rested on her knees, “Truth or dare?”

Esmé raked a hand through blonde curls and grinned, “Dare.” 

“Kiss me,” Jacquelyn responded, draining the rest of her glass and standing. 

Esmé rolled her eyes, “Honestly Jacquelyn, you’re so transparent,” she thrust her wine glass at Georgina, who promptly invited herself to finish the drink, and met Jacquelyn’s devious gaze. 

Jacquelyn straddled herself brazenly across the blonde’s lap and gripped the back of the couch in balled up fists. Olivia dropped her gaze to the bottom of her glass, feeling a coral flush creep up her neck. 

Jacquelyn kept a short distance from Esmé. It was _ her _ dare, after all. 

Esmé threaded her fingers into the hair at the base of Jacquelyn’s neck and pulled the other woman’s mouth to meet her own. 

It occurred to Olivia, briefly, that it had been a long time since she had watched two people kiss. Beyond the glossy falsities of romance movies, it wasn’t something she had particularly regular access to. She remembered blurry nights piled into her friends’ houses, awkwardly averting her eyes every time she found two teenagers clumsily playing hands in the corner of a dark room. 

The heat in her chest informed her, with an embarrassing certainty, that this was nothing like watching teenagers fumble at a house party. 

Jacquelyn rolled her hips against Esmé and pulled the other woman’s lower lip between her teeth. Esmé suppressed a moan and skated her hand down to rest on Jacquelyn’s thigh, digging her fingertips into rounded flesh. She dragged her tongue across Jacquelyn’s teeth before withdrawing; depriving Jacquelyn of the attention she clearly so desperately wanted,

“Olivia, truth or dare?” 

Jacquelyn extricated herself from Esmé’s lap and settled herself between Georgina and the blonde, despite the lack of appropriate space for her. 

Olivia hesitated. She didn’t trust whatever Esmé would offer her with either option, though she supposed that was the point of the game. She felt particularly exposed on account of the three women sitting across from her, observing her with six piercing eyes. 

“Truth,” she responded. Deciding that if dares, in this context, really only amounted to kissing various other members of the circle, she didn’t like her odds. 

“No repeats,” Jacquelyn added quickly, trying to save at least some of Olivia’s dignity. 

Esmé scoffed but complied, “Who was the last person you had a crush on?” 

Olivia winced and decided to do something she didn’t do often. 

She lied.

“Dewey Denouement.”

It went down easily with only minimal raised eyebrows. Olivia seldom lied, but when it was necessary to preserve her sanity, she did it with composure and believability. 

“Georgina,” she started, quickly changing tack, “truth or dare?” 

Georgina had the decency not to roll her eyes at people who weren’t Esmé, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to. Besides, drinking games were only really fun when they involved a half naked Esmé draped across her lap. 

She didn’t expect Olivia to give her anything particularly bold.

“Truth,” in all honesty, her decision was largely based on the fact that she didn’t feel like standing up, sure that doing so would make the room spin slightly. What she didn’t account for, however, was a seemingly innocent question that she would have preferred not to answer.

“Who are you dating?”

Olivia couldn’t explain why she had decided to ask it, other than blaming the hazy edge from the wine and the raw sense of jealousy that had settled itself behind her ribs. 

Georgina wanted to lie, but the way her eyes flicked themselves across towards Esmé of their own accord disclosed her answer far more openly than she had intended. 

“It’s not exactly a secret,” Esmé pointed out. 

Georgina tipped her head non-committally, “I suppose not.” 

“Olivia you look lonely over there,” Esmé said, clearly having lost interest in the game slightly. 

Olivia flushed and didn’t have time to formulate an answer before Esmé added, “There’s room next to Georgina.”

It didn’t necessarily surprise her that four queer women who were slightly wine tipsy ended up stacked on one three-seater sofa. Nor did it shock her that, after placing her empty glass back on the low table, she found herself with her fingers tangled into the soft fabric of Georgina’s waistcoat while the other woman smoothed her fingers absent-mindedly through Olivia’s hair. It crossed her mind that this could be construed as slightly odd behaviour, given that she had only technically met Georgina once prior to this evening, but something about the late night in combination with precisely the right amount of wine made her feel completely at ease. Or maybe it was something to do with the gentle pressure Georgina was applying at the base of her neck that was ridding her of the wine induced headache she had previously felt forming. 

What did take her by surprise, however, was finding herself wholeheartedly agreeing with Esmé’s suggestion that they all go to bed. 

They had spent an indeterminate length of time in a comfortably silent pile on Jacquelyn’s couch, the wine beginning to wear off considerably. Jacquelyn, now horizontal across both Esmé and Georgina, had offered everyone more drinks but it seemed as though the four of them were content to reside in the drowsy softness of sobering up quietly. She had noticed Esmé toying with Jacquelyn’s waistband, to Jacquelyn’s gentle delight, but she hadn’t thought anything of it until Esmé planted a kiss on Jacquelyn’s jaw before looking up at her,

“Are you interested?” she asked, filling her voice with enough innuendo that it was impossible to be confused about exactly what she meant. 

Olivia nodded emphatically. She liked to think that her penchant for enjoying sex wasn’t glaringly obvious to the untrained eye, but the idea of doing precisely this but with fewer clothes sounded like exactly what she wanted. A brief doubt about the size of Jacquelyn’s bed and the logistics of four women occurred to her, but she decided not to question it until it became an obstacle and instead allowed Jacquelyn to lace her fingers through hers and press her lips to her forehead,

“You sure this is okay?” she asked, head tilted and voice low as Georgina and Esmé made their way up Jacquelyn’s narrow staircase. 

Olivia nodded again, “This sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Jacquelyn smiled and caught Olivia’s lips in a soft kiss. Olivia hummed and wound her arms around Jacquelyn’s waist. Jacquelyn placed a hand on the brunette’s face before pulling back and leading her up the stairs.

* * *

Jacquelyn’s bedroom contained the same familiar bathing warmth that Olivia found in the rest of the house. The room was generously decorated with soft furnishings in tones of pewter and sage green. Olivia recognised a framed picture of herself and Jacquelyn the day they had taken a day trip out of state. Jacquelyn held the camera high, sunglasses perched precariously atop soft honey curls, while Olivia squinted at the sun from behind her hand. She always cringed at the fact that this was the picture of them Jacquelyn had selected, the embarrassment making itself more pronounced given the additional participants in the room, but she decided at least it was out of the way where neither Esmé nor Georgina were likely to look at it. 

The two women were in the centre of the room, having not quite made it to the bed before Esmé had begun to impatiently claw at Georgina’s shirt, her tie forgotten somewhere halfway up the staircase. Esmé skated sharp fingernails across the other woman’s exposed abdomen and pulled her lips down to meet her own. Georgina made a noise that made Olivia blush before fiddling with the catches on Esmé’s jacket and peeling it off her shoulders to reveal nothing but a scrap of barely-there white lace. 

If Olivia hadn’t already been sure that this wasn’t the first time Georgina and Esmé had done this, the way Esmé dragged her tongue across the other woman’s teeth before digging her nails into her hip and pulling their bodies flush together in one fluid motion would have given it away. 

Georgina attempted to remove some portion of Esmé’s cherry red lipstick from her mouth with the stiff cuff of her shirt before shedding it and turning to Olivia and Jacquelyn. 

Jacquelyn wasted no time in wrapping her arms around Georgina’s neck, while Esmé stalked across to Olivia. 

“You look like a rabbit in headlights, darling,” Esmé whispered in her ear, soft breath catching her cheek. She ran the tip of her fingernail across Olivia’s jaw and tucked a free strand of glossy hair behind her ear. 

Olivia couldn’t quite tell if Esmé had intended to come across as reassuring or if she wanted to devour her. 

She wasn’t entirely convinced that she minded, either way.

Before she had time to craft a response, Esmé brushed a fingertip across Olivia’s rounded cheekbone,  
  


“Have you ever done this before?” she asked. 

Olivia decided that Esmé was shooting for reassuring, so she was honest, “No.” 

Esmé tilted Olivia’s face up to meet her own, “That’s okay,” she smiled and pressed her lips to Olivia’s jaw. She kissed a languid line down Olivia’s neck and began to work her fingers through the buttons of her shirt. 

Olivia tipped her head back and sighed before finding her way to the button on Esmé’s slacks, edging her fingertips across the smooth skin of Esmé’s hips and the jagged edge of more lace, pushing the trousers to the floor. 

She chastised herself, momentarily, for not considering wearing better underwear when she caught sight of Georgina now wearing nothing but several scraps of emerald silk, though she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to have predicted this particular outcome. 

Esmé tangled a hand in her hair and pressed her lips to hers. Olivia smiled and pinned Esmé’s hips to her own. After all, she figured this didn’t have to be that different to regular sex. And she knew how to navigate _ that _just fine. 

Esmé pulled herself away from Olivia and strode across to Jacquelyn’s bed, promptly displaying herself in the centre, “I, for one, would like some attention.” 

Jacquelyn was the first to comply, sinking to her knees in front of Esmé and sliding white lace down the pale expanse of Esmé’s thighs. 

Georgina turned to Olivia and raised an eyebrow, asking a silent question Olivia didn’t quite know how to answer. When it became evident that Olivia wasn’t prepared to detail what she wanted, Georgina crossed to her and pressed her lips to the shell of Olivia’s ear,

“Esmé’s good with her tongue,” she suggested before capturing Olivia’s lips in a soft kiss and drifting her fingertips to the shorter woman’s hips in order to remove her underwear. Olivia sighed gratefully before taking Georgina’s instruction and clambering across Jacquelyn’s silvery sheets to ask Esmé’s permission.

Esmé grinned at the sight of Olivia’s soft thighs before she gasped as Jacquelyn’s tongue lapped at her core. Her hips bucked of their own accord as she caught strands of blonde hair in a hair tie pulled deftly from her wrist and Olivia lowered her hips over her face. 

Olivia hadn’t expected Georgina to be wrong.

She just hadn’t expected her to be quite so _ right_. 

Olivia bit her lip as Esmé’s tongue entered her, and she was met with the sight of Jacquelyn’s head between Esmé’s thighs and Georgina on the floor, judging by the way Jacquelyn was moaning, with her fingers in Jacquelyn’s core. 

Georgina met her gaze and grinned lopsidedly, her other hand also decidedly below the edge of the bed, impatiently delving into herself. 

Olivia’s breath caught in her chest as Esmé wrapped cherry red lips around her clit and sucked, “Oh.”

The sound slipped inadvertently from her mouth, promptly followed by, “_F__uck_.”

She watched Georgina bite her lip, her eyes transfixed on the woman rocking her hips on her lover’s face, for a split second before Olivia closed her eyes and her vision went black, senses coloured only by the symphony of moans around her. 

She heard a high-pitched whine, and it took her a second to place it as Jacquelyn’s, “More, Georgina, more…” The other woman tailed off in favour of a less coherent string of curses and moans. 

Moments later Olivia tipped her head back to neutral to find Georgina having settled herself across Esmé’s abdomen.

She threaded her fingers into Olivia’s hair and whispered, “Fuck me.” 

Olivia pressed her lips to the other woman's and obliged, skating her fingers through dark hair and into wet heat. 

Georgina moaned somewhere deep in the back of her throat and thrust her tongue into Olivia’s mouth. 

Olivia tried to concentrate on artfully using her fingers in combination with the heel of her hand, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with Esmé’s tongue lapping impatiently at her clit. Georgina rolled her hips smoothly as her core clenched as she came, whimpering. Olivia felt Georgina convulsing around her fingers and her come slicken her palm, as Esmé’s tongue delved deep inside her and Georgina scraped sharp teeth across the soft skin of her neck. 

Olivia was met with the peculiar sensation of Esmé moaning in a way that reverberated deeply in her core. The blonde’s tongue caught her clit, her hands pinning Olivia’s hips to her face. Olivia clenched her fingers into Georgina’s hair and utilised the heady kiss she was afforded in order to prevent the tide of obscenities she could feel dancing on her tongue from spilling into the air around her, as Esmé’s tongue pushed her over the edge. 

Soaking in residual heat, Olivia collapsed onto Jacquelyn’s pillows, shortly followed by Georgina. Georgina placed herself behind Olivia, allowing the other woman to lean back against her chest. Olivia entrusted the entirety of her frame to Georgina’s arms, her limbs feeling rather less than solid in the endorphinated wake of orgasm. Georgina toyed with a strand of Olivia’s glossy hair and pressed her lips gently against the smooth skin of her neck. 

Esmé wasted no time in clenching her hands into Jacquelyn’s honeyed hair and grinding her hips earnestly into her face,

“Jacquelyn,” the other woman’s name came out as a breathless whine through gritted teeth, “I’m feeling impatient.” 

Jacquelyn obliged and thrust her fingers into Esmé’s core. 

Esmé moaned obscenely and came, her hips bucking, head thrown back, spine arched. 

Obsidian eyes flicked across at Georgina, full of a silent jealousy the blonde wasn’t willing to vocalise. 

Jacquelyn appeared, stiffly, from the floor, shaking the tension out from aching knees and clambered across Olivia. Olivia leaned forwards, now slightly more together, and curled herself into the cradle Jacquelyn’s arms had created for her. 

She lost track of Esmé and Georgina. She could feel one of them at her back, she guessed Esmé by the weight and frame, but sleep overwhelmed her before she could think more about the peculiarities of whatever it was that had just happened.

* * *

Olivia hadn’t felt anything strange when she woke up. Esmé and Georgina were absent; she assumed they had collected themselves and returned to their various corners of the city. Together or apart, she wasn’t quite sure. 

Jacquelyn buried her dozing face between Olivia’s shoulder blades and murmured,  
  


“Are you okay?” 

Olivia turned herself to face her friend, pressing her forehead against the other woman’s,

“Yes,” she answered, resolutely. 

Jaquelyn nodded and released Olivia from her snared arms. 

Olivia shrugged on an old robe of Jacquelyn’s, flannel weighting her shoulders with a familiar warmth, before padding down the stairs, to be met with the low sounds of a hushed half-argument,

“Esmé will you let me cook please?” Georgina whispered.

“But you look so _ cute _, Georgie, I can’t help it.” Though Olivia couldn’t see her, she could clearly envisage the pout on the blonde’s face. 

A muffled laugh greeted her halfway along the corridor, and she wondered briefly whether she should avoid entering the kitchen, but she figured she’d have to do it at some point. It would inevitably be much worse if she were to be found lurking outside the kitchen door. 

She took a tentative step across the threshold and was met with the sight of Esmé with her arms wrapped inconveniently around Georgina’s waist, her face pressed to the nape of the shorter woman’s neck. 

“Good morning, Olivia,” Esmé said, words slightly muffled by the sheet of Georgina’s hair that was obscuring her mouth. 

“Hello, Olivia,” Georgina added, trying her utmost to artfully flip the piece of bread that was toasting in the pan while Esmé’s hands meandered across her hips.

Olivia had to admit she was somewhat distracted by the fact that Esmé and Georgina had opted to get half-dressed in last night’s clothes. Georgina had crumpled, lipstick stained, shirt sleeves pushed up around her elbows. Esmé wore her suit, still crisp and white, now accessorised with Georgina’s tie looped around her neck. 

“Go and look after the coffee, will you?” Georgina chastised, affectionately. 

Esmé rolled her eyes, “I suppose.” 

Olivia took a seat at Jacquelyn’s kitchen table for the second time in two days. Feeling somehow that this time contained slightly more gravity when Esmé handed her a deep mug filled to the brim with sweet, milky coffee. 

Esmé pranced around getting under Georgina’s feet and playing waitress to whatever she was cooking. Jacquelyn made her way downstairs eventually, now clothed in a fleece robe, eyes half closed with sleep, yawning every other breath. 

Olivia didn’t think much of the evening until Esmé threw her a coy wink as she trailed after Georgina on their way out of Jacquelyn’s front door and purred,

“Text me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Thanks to Lauren for “How many times do I have to fake my own death before I can choose neither?”


End file.
